


The Mount

by Agoodcaptain



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: Couple Squabbling, M/M, Mount Manganui, New Zealand tour, Reliving Middlesex's exit from the Blast last year to torture myself, Reliving the Ashes to torture myself, Steven being mopey, Stuart being dopey, TMS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:55:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22294402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agoodcaptain/pseuds/Agoodcaptain
Summary: After the first day of the first test between England and New Zealand in a hotel room not far from the Bay Oval in Mount Maunganui, Steven Finn and Stuart Broad discuss what Steve may or may not have said about Stuart on TMS.Tagged all the characters mentioned, the RootButt reference is pretty oblique but just a little nugget.Please enjoy!
Relationships: Stuart Broad/Steven Finn
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	The Mount

“So what did you say about me?”  
Apart from the usual “how you feeling?” pleasantries along with a quick hello kiss, this was the first thing Stuart said to Steven after the first day of the first test between England and New Zealand in a hotel room not far from the Bay Oval in Mount Maunganui.  
“You didn’t listen then?”  
Steven was only joking, he hadn’t exactly expected Stuart to commandeer the dressing room speakers and tune them in to TMS, but Stuart answered him completely seriously.  
“No, I was. But I went for a bat in the afternoon and missed a lot.”  
Steve snorted, “A net? You? What for?”  
Stuart blushed, “Guessing it wasn’t compliments about my batting then?”  
Steve shrugged guiltily, murmuring “Sorry babe” before smoothing down Stuart’s hair and kissing him on the forehead. He went over to the fruit bowl, carefully selected the best-looking banana and started eating it, rather uncouthly. Steve had clearly forgotten about Stuart’s previous question, or was doing his best impression of it, but Stuart wasn’t dropping it, “Go on then.”  
Steve sighed and rolled his eyes; he thought back to the day’s play – what had he said exactly?  
“I was nice,” Steve said simply and with a shrug, popping the last of the banana in his mouth.  
“Nice?” Stuart pressed.  
“Yeah, I was nice about everyone.”

Stuart looked up at Steve from his position sprawled on the bed, smiling at Steve’s honesty; there was so much goodness in him, he didn’t have a cynical bone in his body.  
“You mean that, don’t you?” Stuart asked.  
Steve just stared back at Stuart – of course he did.  
“Steve, babe, you have to be critical as an analyst. You can’t just go saying nice things about your mates.”  
Steve looked wounded, he stuck out his lower lip before retorting, “No, I know, I wasn’t… I didn’t do that.”  
Stuart pushed himself up from the bed and put his hands on Steve’s shoulders, as Steve busied himself with throwing away the banana skin and fiddling with a tuft of hair that wouldn’t go flat on the top off his head.  
“I’m teasing. You were great.” Stuart accompanied his words with an encouraging squeeze of Steve’s shoulders.  
Steve took a second before replying, “I was honest about everyone. Including you.”  
Stuart didn’t dare respond in case Steve was derailed again, he merely removed his hands from Steve’s shoulders and waited. Steve turned around to face Stuart, taking his sweet time to do so. Finally, when he was facing him, Steve took a step toward Stuart – there was a catch in Stuart’s breathing but he didn’t flinch or break eye contact.  
Steve spoke steadily, his voice unwavering, “I said you were in the form of your life.”  
The corners of Stuart’s mouth twitched upwards but he quickly suppressed it, merely flicking his eyebrows upwards to encourage Steve to continue.  
“I said that despite your rapidly advancing years-“ Steve paused, waiting for a reaction from Stuart who pointedly cleared his throat but said nothing.  
“That actually you look as deadly as ever.”  
Steve leaned even closer to Stuart, his breath tickling Stuart’s hot cheek as he whispered, “That your stamina is nothing short of extraordinary. That you can still go for hours.” Steve followed this with a soft, lingering kiss applied to Stuart’s cheek, and then pulled his head away, only very slightly. Stuart considered himself a fairly disciplined person but he was only human and any restraint he had quickly dissipated and he couldn’t help pulling Steve into a full passionate kiss and bringing them both staggering backwards onto the bed. 

********************************************************************************

Stuart was pretty predictable in that after a day’s play, he was amped up. That went even when he’d spent the day in the dressing room, waiting to go out and bat, if anything more so. As if he had stored energy for a specific purpose and had to find a productive way to expend it. And sharing that… exercise with Steve was far more fun than the gym. Steve was more than on board with this plan but sometimes Stuart needed to be slowed down, not that it wasn’t flattering that after all these years Stuart still found the very idea of getting Steve naked enough to get him going like a teenage boy. All the speculation of Stuart getting to the end of his career, of being past his peak would soon be silenced if they could see Stuart clawing at Steve’s shirt ferociously. Not that Steve wanted to invite any of those old boys into the bedroom, or even into his head right now, he would much rather focus on… wait was that his shirt ripping?

“Baby,” Steve warned, he was almost laughing but with a firm hand on Stuart to show that he was serious. Stuart froze and cocked his head at Steve, enquiring.  
“I’m not going anywhere. You… you can slow down.”  
Stuart at last pulled back, “Sorry I’m not… I’m still getting used to having you here again, I guess.”  
Steven took Stuart’s face in his hands, looked into his eyes, then kissed each cheek, “I know. I know.”  
Stuart blinked at him and smiled, blushing, “I love this. I love you being around on tour, I love you crushing it on TMS.” Steve almost filled the silence with lavishing more kisses on Stuart but Stuart wasn’t finished, “And I love you.” Steve stopped, halfway between closing the distance between them, “I love you too.” They smiled at each other, spent the moment, and then fell together. Steve saved his t-shirt by removing it himself before extracting Stuart from his training kit carefully, conscious of the tour ahead. 

Steve raked his fingers up the side of Stuart’s skinny chest as if relearning Stuart’s body, although Steve had committed every inch to memory over the last eight years. There were gaps in their story; some of them substantial, it was by no means a straight line but those dark, patchy times weren’t worth dwelling on, indeed Steve couldn’t go there in his mind. Instead he created a seal with his mouth on Stuart’s chest, inching his way downwards, much to Stuart’s delight. Stuart had been working his hand into Steve’s boxers like a teenager in the back row of a cinema, or two cricketers on the back row of a team bus, whichever comparison works, but when Steve reached Stuart’s pelvic bone, he was powerless to do anything but lie back, open-mouthed. 

Eager to ensure Steve was on the same level of excitement, Stuart managed to gather himself enough to extricate Steve from his shorts and boxers and begin languid but determined strokes of Steve’s increasingly erect cock. Steve and Stuart fell back into kissing, and Steve pulled Stuart into him by his tight behind. Stuart had to abandon his ministrations of Steve’s cock but the necessary groundwork was already in place, and to this end, Steve rolled Stuart onto his back and leaned over his prone form, grinning. He pinned Stuart’s wrists to the bed and spent a moment staring at him lasciviously.  
“What?” Stuart asked, pouting at being made to wait.  
“Nothing. Just you.”  
Stuart gave Steve a lopsided look that passed for admonishment but really meant that he was secretly pleased – after all these years Steve could read Stuart like a comic book, skimming over most of the panels. 

Steve gave Stuart one more second of the filthiest look he had in his arsenal before dropping down onto Stuart’s chest, licking him from nipple to neck and then sucking there, something he knew drove Stuart crazy – that particular panel he knew very well.  
“I hate you,” Stuart managed to get out in a hoarse whisper.  
Steve chuckled softly, “You love me.”  
“Okay, yeah, oh god, I love you. But if you don’t stop… ah… doing that you might see just how much I love you.”  
Steve relented, “Okay, I’ll stop… what should I do instead? Maybe…”  
Steve trailed off as he thumbed Stuart’s entrance. Stuart bit his lip in anticipation and said nothing.  
Steve took this as encouragement as he eased a finger then two in, preparing him for his eager cock that eased in moments later. Stuart closed his eyes in pleasure but forced them open again so he could look Steve in the eyes as he thrust deep inside Stuart. 

“Kiss me,” Steve whispered dreamily and Stuart pulled Steve toward him and met his lips. Despite the ecstasy threatening to rip through Stuart any second, he kissed Steve tenderly, lovingly. But then, after a particularly fervent thrust, Stuart couldn’t contain himself and gave in to his orgasm, biting down on Steve’s lip as he did so. It wasn’t intentional but the intense moment of pain took Steve by surprise in the best way possible and he came in a rush that left him light-headed and he collapsed next to Stuart, grinning inanely. 

********************************************************************************

Some time later, they remained in the same position on the bed, in a contented silence. Steve absentmindedly stroked Stuart’s hair as he lay on his chest. He could stay like this forever. Well, if only his feet weren’t sticking out the end of his bed. He could just about fit if he slept diagonally across but unlike his bed at home, which he had bought specifically for the purpose, this was not made for two six foot seven men – well, Steve said he was six foot eight but Stuart wasn’t sure there was much difference between them. Steve kissed the top of Stuart’s head and laughed to himself, “I must say, your guests sleep in much more comfortable beds than your servants.”  
“What?”  
“I said-“  
“Is that from something?”  
“Yes.”  
“Oh, whatsit. Gosford Park.”  
“Hey remember when you told me you loved that film?”  
Stuart giggled guiltily, “Yeah that was before we slept together, I was trying to impress you.”

Steve jostled Stuart off his chest and Stuart righted himself and settled his head again on Steve’s chest looking up at him with doe-eyes. Steve cuffed him around the ear lovingly, “And I was young and dumb and believed you. You know what, I watched Top Gun for you.”  
Stuart kissed Steve’s chest and grinned up at him, “You bloody loved it – I saw your face during that volleyball scene.”  
Steve blushed, “The volleyball scene is… yeah great but it doesn’t make up for the misogyny and the-.”  
“Babe, it’s just a film, you need to take things less seriously.”  
Steve sat up, turfing Stuart from his chest again, “You need to take things more seriously.”  
Steve looked at Stuart levelly and Stuart cringed, “Yeah I didn’t mean that. I don’t think that. Sorry.”  
“Good.”  
Stuart settled back into Steven kissing him on the bicep then the cheek before squidging up next to him – there really wasn’t much space. Steve smiled; it was moments like this of Stuart’s sincerity, his propensity for self-examination that really continued to endear and charm Steve after all these years.

After a moment of silence, Stuart began shuffling clumsily down the bed.  
“Okay can we go to sleep now? I’m knackered. Unlike some people, I’ve been grafting for a living.”  
Stuart giggled, expecting a comeback from Steve but he merely frowned and shook his head, “No, no, no, piss off back to your hotel.”  
Stuart moaned in response but Steve wasn’t giving in, “You’re grumpy now but you’ll be grumpier when you have to get up ridiculously early to get back to your hotel for the bus. I don’t have to be in the ground till 10.”  
“I’m tired. And you’re just saying that so you don’t have to share this bed.”  
“Stu, there is nothing I would rather do than squish up next to you all night. But I’m saying this for your own good.”  
Stuart looked over at Steve, his face full of concern; as per usual, Steve was right.  
“You don’t mind sleeping alone?” Stuart asked, already getting up and starting to get dressed. He meant it as a tease, thanks to their playing schedules and Steve being on the outside of the England setup for the last while, they’d spent many nights apart, far too many.  
Steve’s response came quickly and sincerely, “Of course I mind. But since you don’t want me at your hotel, I’m making the best of it.”

Stuart stopped halfway through pulling on his sock and sat on the bed, putting his hand on Steve’s shoulder and squeezing it, “It’s not that I don’t want you there. Of course I do. Waking up next to you is just the best feeling.” Stuart barely paused for breath; he hadn’t said any of it for effect. He was merely airing his thoughts, there was very little pretence with Stuart, he was honest to a fault, and he’d embarrassed himself many times with Steve in their relationship by just straightforwardly stating how he felt about him.  
“But it’s not like the old days,” Stuart continued, “It’s not so easy.”  
Steve and Stuart had spent years sneaking around their teammates but there was less excuse for them being around each other constantly now. In a way they didn’t know how good they had it. Steve sighed, nostalgic in some ways but their relationship had changed a lot since then, matured. 

You could count on one hand the amount of people in cricket that knew about the two of them: Christopher Roger Woakes, Joseph Charles Buttler, Timothy James Murtagh, Harry Frederik Gurney, and Alastair Nathan Cook – although one Joseph Edward Root gave Steve a funny wink when he and Stuart were having a purposefully public drink at the hotel bar, and Jos had chosen a fine time to go to the loo. Who knows with Rooty? He was an odd duck sometimes. Steve had often wondered if Stuart had told Jimmy, if he wanted to, but Stuart said they never talked about “that stuff”, bizarre Steve always thought, as they seemed to talk about everything else. Maybe Jimmy had picked it up anyway, he was like a wallflower that way, he saw things, he kept quiet about them. And he understood.

“I think you worry too much.” Steve said at last, “I’m can be secret squirrel discreet.”  
“Oh yeah, you’re the picture of inconspicuousness.”  
Steve snorted, “Don’t use words over four syllables, it’s disconcerting.”  
Stuart glared at him, pouting, “I have A-Levels, good ones, I could’ve gone to Durham for uni.”  
“And look at you now.”  
“Shut up.”  
Stuart gave Steve little choice in the matter, stopping his giggling mouth with a kiss. 

With great reluctance, Steve pushed Stuart away before they got too carried away.  
“I’m having dinner with Woakesy tomorrow,” Steve said as Stuart finished getting dressed. “Think about it, okay?”  
“A slumber party?” Stuart teased; prodding Steve in the ribs but Steve remained serious. “Okay. I’ll think about it” Stuart agreed, then after realising something, “Wait who am I having dinner with then?”  
“I dunno. Sam and Jof? Do some mentoring.”  
Stuart groaned petulantly and Steve shook his head at him, “Sam is nice, stop being mean.”  
“He is nice. I never said he wasn’t nice. But that voice! It does stuff to me. Bad stuff. I swear it’s like… it’s like the opposite of that thing you do with your tongue on my neck.”  
Steve threw a pillow at Stuart, “Okay just leave. I can’t believe you just mentioned little Sammy Curran in the same sentence as my guaranteed boner move.”  
“Guaranteed boner move? Jesus Steve.” Stuart was almost out the door now, “I tell you what, I will give you a hundred pounds if you get that phrase on air tomorrow.”  
Steve laughed and was about to start settling in for the night when Stuart rushed back from the door as if just remembering. He kissed Steve chastely, whispered, “love you” and then disappeared. 

Steve stayed where he was for a while, thinking - not moping exactly, just reflecting. This fuck and run routine felt oddly casual for the level of intimacy Steve and Stuart were on, something they had worked hard at, that had come at no small cost to them both. It felt more like their very early days where they were still trying to figure what they were out, when they were trying not to admit to each other just how hard they had already fallen. Also, less nostalgically, it felt like some of the encounters Steve had during their times apart. 

The recollection was not a pleasant one and Steve shivered, suddenly chilled. He searched the room until his eyes lighted on Stuart’s fleece Steve had commandeered a while ago, nicking it from his wardrobe in Nottingham when Steve had stayed over after Middlesex’s painful exit from the T20 Blast at the Quarter Final stage. Steve had taken the loss hard – he’d really thought they were going to win it that year, de Villiers, Morgan, Sowter – the stars seemed to be aligning, especially after that record-breaking win against Somerset, even if Steve had gone wicketless, they’d all done their work over the tournament, each one shouldering the workload at different times. Rather than going back to London with the team, he’d begged Eoin to make an excuse to a grumpy Dawid (like there was any other mood his ex-captain affected) and Stu Law and used his key to let himself into Stuart’s place. Stuart up in a Manchester hotel texted that Steve sleeping in his bed without him was pure torture, that Steve was being cruel. Stuart was just kidding of course – even through text, Steve could read his tone of voice; see him biting his lip as he thought of it, thinking he was so smart - providing distraction where it was needed. Steve in turn joked that he half-expected to find David Warner in the pocket of a pair of his jeans in the wardrobe. Neither of their weeks was going quite how they had planned but each of them having the other one making terrible jokes just to cheer the other person up was… hands round a mug of tea after rushing inside in December, the lucky catch off a bad ball that really shouldn’t have taken a wicket just as the captain was about to take you off, that sidelong glance between teammates sharing a private reference; a hundred miles apart, they felt at home again. The next morning, Steve had borrowed an outfit of Stuart’s to take the train back to London, not feeling like putting his Middlesex kit back on, and not just because of the sweat.

Steve and Stuart had been sharing clothes forever and Steve didn’t think anything of wearing it to give out T20 caps to England debutants in New Zealand until Jimmy had given him stick on Tailenders for it. Steve hadn’t dropped Stuart in it, not even privately, but he wasn’t lying when he defended it, he really did love that fleece, but maybe that was just because it smelled like Stuart, maybe it was because whether he wore it in Christchurch, London, Nottingham or Mount Manganui, it transported him back to Stuart’s arms. Steve breathed in the scent as he pulled the fleece over his head and located some of his clean(ish) gym shorts before hopping back into bed. He got up to retrieve his phone from the desk and set his alarm, seeing a text from Stuart – just a heart emoji, nothing else, letting him know he was back safely in his hotel room, letting him know he was thinking of him, letting him know he was missing him. Their relationship wasn’t perfect by any stretch but each day they spent together had at least one of its own perfect little moments contained inside. Some people never experience that, Steve reasoned, they were lucky really. Steve sent back a single “X” and peeking round his cheap hotel curtains, took a last look out the window at The Mount and curled up in bed, his arms round one of his thin pillows, though it did little to make up for the absence.


End file.
